


Undying

by Tandirra



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Character Death Fix, Gen, Major Character Undeath, because if you want something done right you have to do it yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 12:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14449680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tandirra/pseuds/Tandirra
Summary: When there's no Goddess of Death left, how can Asgardians truly die?





	Undying

His feet dangled uselessly, Thanos’ massive fist closing tighter and tighter around Loki’s throat. The world flashed bright colors, dyeing the Titan’s skin brilliant, mad hues. Loki kicked, fought, but his body was failing. It had failed, had failed the moment Thanos caught his dagger. He’d known, despite his lies, that his death was near. It was imminent now. The space stone glittered dangerously, mocking him. Mocking his failures. That, despite what he’d sacrificed, Thor was still here, still at Thanos’ mercy. The world began to fade, once overly brilliant colors greying and curdling as Loki’s lungs, his crushed throat, begged for air that wasn’t forthcoming. The futility of the fight struck him. Couldn’t his body see he was going to lose?

A spike of desperation drove through him. He glanced, for just a moment of his remaining time, to Thor. Some small, childish, foolish part of him still hoped that Thor would fix this. That Thor would save him as he’d done countless times before. That Thor would break free, strike Thanos down, that they would come out of this scratched, beaten, but alive. But Thor kneeled on the ground, covered in metal, Ebony Maw’s handiwork. And Thor’s eye-

Loki tried to look away, but his body failed him.

Thor’s eye. The horror there. The anger. Had Loki possessed any breath to take in, it would have. He kicked out, but the blow fell useless against Thanos’ chest. He’d failed Thor once more in the end, for old time’s sake.

The world was fading, pieces of Loki’s vision spotting and faltering, replaced by nothingness, not even blackness, simply an absence that ran spiny shivers up Loki’s spine. Thanos was gone now, out of sight, the only remnant of him was the crushing pressure around Loki’s throat. His legs were numb, his arms too. Still, he kept Thor’s eye. Kept that faintest of hopes until the final fight his body gave failed and he fell.

And he fell. Damn, he hating falling. He fell for what felt like an age. Fell in an airless space. He couldn’t see. Or perhaps he could and all was dark. Not even his throat ached. There was nothing. His body- caught in the perpetual momentum of falling, the endless precipice just before the solid ground that came at the end of every fall- his body was a dead weight. All that existed was the sensation of rushing air in a world without it, not a thought could fight past that, despite how hard he tried. 

Still, he kept trying. Fought and scraped against the haze both in the world around him and in his head, the panicked feeling that relied only on an instinct which had failed him. He tore at those walls for what felt like an eternity. And, finally, they broke.

“Thor!” He gasped; his bruised, broken, though somehow not aching, throat barely managing the cry. His shout echoed throughout the empty space. _ Thor Thor Thor Thor. _

Freed, at least for now, from his haze, Loki spun in his perpetual motion, attempting to identify something, anything at all. But all was grey, the light grey of a misty morning in Asgard, not quite light, not quite rain, one he would have loved to spent indoors, reading, working, occupying himself in those dreamlike in-between moments of the world. But this, there was nothing peaceful about an everlasting fall.

Perhaps, then, this was Hel. But no. The more Loki looked, the less he believed that. Stories of Hel were sparse, but none of them guessed this. And this didn’t feel like death. Loki had stood on that doorstep before, felt the finality of the world closing its predator teeth around him. Accepted that, only for his traitorous body to tug him back and force him back to the world of the living. This, this felt like that misty morning, not quite one thing, certainly not the other. This was a stuck place, a place that should exist. A place he shouldn’t exist within.

But here he was anyway.

For a few moments Loki lost himself, lost his thoughts to the rushing stream of nothingness. Not even air whistled past him. He heard nothing. Not the gasping of his throat. Not the pumping of his heart. Perhaps because neither were doing as they should. 

Focusing with difficulty, Loki clawed the floating bits of his mind back into their makeshift whole. This was not Hel. Certainly it was not Valhalla. What, then, was it? Why was this death so different to the others?

The answer came in the frazzled image of Thor’s face. In the eyepatch that so strengthened his resemblance to Odin, to their father. The eyepatch, courtesy of the Goddess of Death. The Goddess of Death who herself was now dead, leaving a loophole so wide that Loki had perhaps been flung through it. The idea stretched itself thin even in mustering it. But if Loki had nowhere to go in death, had no death to claim, then perhaps… 

Perhaps the universe juggled this imbalance now. Perhaps the Norns still knew not how to remedy this which should not have happened. Perhaps all this death, all the Asgardians that had perished before him, perhaps they too were in this space, cast out of life but with no death to embrace.

Which meant- which meant Thor could not die either. Which meant Thor was still out there, no matter what Thanos did to him.

Loki attempted to right himself, trying to take some control of this ceaseless plummet. 

He was in an in-between place, tilting precariously on the edge of two infinities. In the moments of mist where the world had not yet decided which path the day would take. And maybe, just maybe, he could force it to tip in his favor. 

And if Thor was out there. Thor who had only just learned the truth of Thanos. Of Loki taking the Tesseract. Thor who was hammerless and fatherless and peopless and- and— 

Loki swallowed hard, wincing at the pointlessness of that gesture, there was nothing to swallow, after all. He flung his arms out, clawing grey hands, only a few shades darker than the world around him, at thin air, hoping for anything to catch himself upon. But there was nothing. Nothing at all. This space was truly empty.

But it didn’t have to be. Was this real or perhaps in his own failing mind as it scattered? He couldn’t know. This formless space refused to be knowable, an admirable trait. It was as it should be. Was as it was supposed to be. It was because it had to be; that was the way of this world.

He was never one to respect the natural way of things, though. Reaching out, both with his hands and his shattered, half a mind, Loki tugged on the shards of his seidr. If anything could push him out of this, that could. If there was nothing with which to help himself, then he would create something himself. 

The energy sparked and fizzled, just as he remembered it in his last living moments.  _ In his last living moments _ , the thought made him flinch. He’d died. Truly this time. His only chance at escape springing from an accident, from an imbalance of the world. It was unfair really, that he could even attempt to deny the universe its prize. 

The universe could cry all it wanted, he wouldn’t be here to listen. 

With those meager scraps of confidence, Loki let the pitiful remnants of his seidr flood his body, feeling,  _ feeling-  _ he hadn’t even realized he felt nothing until sensations returned- forced them into some usable shape. They were weak. They were nothing compared to his truest strength. But they would have to do. 

He needed out. He needed to explain. He needed to help Thor.

He released the seidr he’d built up, what little of it remained. It exploded, rocking the airless nothingness and sending his plummet careening off to one side. No longer was he falling. No, instead he felt himself tumbling, crashing against invisible obstacles. Things of nothingness. Nothingness with mass, with form. 

The thought hit after a quick few seconds of this slower, rougher fall. He shot one hand out, searching desperately for one such nothingness. It took a second eternity for his muscles to react. His hand caught something solid, Loki felt his shoulder jolt with a half-pain as his long fall came to an abrupt halt. He clung to that nothing, truly hanging on a precipice now. Down was further emptiness, a return to his piece of nothing, the death he had earned by his actions, the death he’d reigned down on Asgard for his sins. The cliff he clung to? He knew not where that would lead. But if it was somewhere, than that was better than here.

Mustering his fleeting strength, Loki flung up his other hand, catching the same cliff of nothing. Every fiber of his being quivered, fighting his decision. He refused the universe and so his body attempt to refuse him. But no. 

Thor needed him.

With a final push of will, Loki hoisted himself over that precipice.

All was black. Everything hurt. His throat most of all, like he’d been run over by Volstagg. His lungs screamed for air.

Remembering himself, Loki gasped a breath. A sweet, almost unbearably painful breath. His lungs were on fire, his body burned hot as a furnace. He coughed, some misguided instinct hoping to quell that fire only to fan its flames higher.

Soft ground beneath him squelched as he writhed, overtaken by the all consuming blaze. When his fit passed, Loki cracked open his eyes, realizing they had crusted over as he did. Sunlight shown through a wrecked canopy, striking his face.  Long, strange leaves drifted lazily down from where he’d no doubt crashed through. One such leaf twisted downwards on an invisible breeze, landing lightly on his face, tickling his nose. He sneezed, the sound the loudest thing in the world.

And after it passed, the rustling of the forest came to him. The soft scrape of leaf against leaf. Strange creatures clicking and cooing out of sight. Each of his rasping breaths interrupting the total peace of a warm day.

It hurt to move. It hurt to live. Every muscle felt as if it had been stretched to its thinnest, only to be put back in his body by a clumsy hand. He ached like he never had before. At least the fall had been mostly painless. This hurt. This was wonderful. Any feeling was better than none.

But he hadn’t fought against the universe to lie in the mud and ruminate on mortality or lack there of. Forcing his clumsy limbs to cooperate, Loki pushed himself to sit up. The simple act spurred another coughing fit, worse than the last. He coughed until he retched, spitting up nothing but bile that did little more than worsen his ruined throat. When it finally passed, he took inventory of his surroundings. Whatever planet this was, he hadn’t landed alone. There were other bodies around. The bodies of Asgardians. Asgardians no doubt caught in that same fall he’d only just escaped. The ship too, was scattered in massive chunks. 

Likely more of it was hidden in the forest around him. All he had to do was stand and look. But standing was a tall order. One he was not much sure he could fulfill. He had to, though. Because Thor—

“You—” Loki hand flew instantly to his throat as it closed on his words. His voice wouldn’t come, what had managed to escape was hoarse and raw. It didn’t matter. There was no one to speak to here anyway. It would return in time, at least, he hoped.

Preparing himself with a deep breath that rocked to his core, Loki shoved his limp body out of the dirt. His legs wobbled beneath him, feeling long unused. The thought sprung to mind that time had passed since his death. That perhaps it was already too late. That Thor had already—

No. No he refused to believe so. It would be incredibly inconsiderate of Thor to go and die on him after all this effort. And besides, even if Thor had died, Loki would just need wake him before the universe and the Norns caught up.

Which meant time was of the essence. Loki forced each step, his weight almost unmanageable. He stumbled through the forest, too sick to spend much time looking at any one face of the Asgardians scattered around him. They would find their way, or they would stay, it was beyond him to help. The idea carried him past countless scores of bodies. Carried him far until he collapsed against a smoking escape pod, one of the many they’d sent Asgardians into only for Thanos to shoot down like birds.

But this one was still mostly whole. In theory, it could still run. Loki fumbled with it for a moment until the hull popped, hissing as it slid open. Biting his tongue, Loki dragged the not-dead-not-alive Asgardians from its insides. He resolutely stared only at their clothes, not wanting to see their faces. When the grim deed was done, he stood outside an almost intact escape pod, trying to collect his thoughts.

Where, he wondered, would Thor go? And where would Thanos go? There were Infinity Stones on Midgard. The Reality Stone in Knowhere. He could only guess what Thor would do. Had Thor realized he needed more to defeat Thanos? Loki hoped so. And it all depended on if time had truly passed. It could have been hours, days, months. All he could do was hope for the best.

The powerlessness threatened to suffocate. And he never wanted that, not again. 

A wave of nausea rippled through him, forcing him low. He kneeled against the pod, digging his hands into the warm dirt. He died. Thanos had killed him at last, like he always knew the Titan would. Still, he hadn’t imagined Thor being there. Thor had seen him die once, he shouldn’t have had to witness the display a second time. It was only another mistake Loki need fix.  
His list only grew longer with every passing second.

Which meant he needed to move. He rose, only to stop halfway, the faintest whimper rousing him from his own thoughts. He turned too quickly, bracing against a spike of lightheadedness, trying to identify the sound. His eyes landed on a familiar bracer, on a hand lying in the dirt, owner concealed beyond his site.

He stared at the pale armor for a long moment. He should just leave. Again, Thor was waiting. Thor needed him. But… But…

Cursing himself all the while, Loki limped towards the hand.

He stood over the still body of Valkyrie, grimacing at the smoking hole in her side. There was no coming back from that. Still… his hands brushed the deep indents of his throat, evidence of a hand able to take down the Hulk. Was that not true for him as well? Taking her would only make things more difficult. And he could not be assured she would wake. She could be trapped forever in that misty in-between and he could waste time on a body that was dead. 

But, even as he watched, her lips twitched. Evidence of some fight left within her.

Had he been able to speak, he would have damned himself and her.

He dragged her limp body through the mud, every step feeling like a hundred. When, finally, he dropped her almost-corpse into the cockpit of the escape pod, Loki collapsed into the chair beside it.

There was nothing left in him to spend. No energy. No seidr. He’d spent everything. Every breath was a labor. A feat to rival the grandest of Asgard’s ballads. And he wasn’t a grand hero. But what he was, whatever it was, would have to do.

Taking another painful breath, Loki reached forward and started the ship. The engine whirred beneath his feet. Smoke trickled out from beneath the control panels. Whatever the damage, it would have to hold together, for the fate of the universe. He spared a moment to hope that it would, to give the Norns this one plea, despite how he’d scorned them. He could only hope they would see the importance of what he meant to do. That they would not take his snubbing personally. He lifted off slowly, far too slowly. But, at last, he broke the atmosphere of the planet. 

The ship flashed, craving direction. After a long moment of deliberation, he gave in. Midgard’s coordinates flickered on the glitching screen as he sighed, leaning back in his chair. He couldn’t rest, not yet. Not when Thor still lived and suffered for Loki’s mistakes.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I genuinely liked Infinity War, it was better than I thought it was going to be. That doesn't mean I didn't start formulating this fic 20 minutes into it to deal with the things I uh... disagreed with. I can do both. And I will. I realize this sounds like it will be the set up for me just fixing everything I disliked about Infinity War and it might turn into that. I just had to pump this thing out in an hour because I Cannot Sleep.


End file.
